


I never demand: Daenerys and Yara

by Phare



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: F/F, House Greyjoy, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Queen Daenerys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phare/pseuds/Phare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first meeting, Dany and Yara cannot stop thinking about each other and eventually they cannot keep their hands off each other. How long can they keep it casual, though?..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A firm handshake to steengthen their agreement. Nothing more than that. Still, Dany’s skin seared where Yara wrapped her ice-hot fingers around Dany’s arm like the Kraken’s tentacles. Their eyes had met within an understanding. Obviously, about keeping the integrity in the Seven Kingdoms under the future Targaryen rule. Obviously. And not at all about this mutual..curiosity...of sorts...

Daenerys fell onto her bed and scrutinized the carved ceiling. She couldn’t get Yara’s face out of her mind, the gray-green eyes penetratating her dark and queenly robes, silently caressing the breasts underneath. Yara's voice that suggested much more than her words expressed. Yara's parted legs, leather-clad, strong, supple, enticing with a straightforward question. A question Dany could have answered favorably. 

“Air! I need air!” the queen murmured and stepped out of her gown and onto the balcony, pulling at her necklace. A sweet, orange moon hung overhead, unusually ripe for this time of night. The shimmering sea looked like satin sheets, ready to be rumpled. “By the Old Gods and the New!...”

She looked around and beheld a vision: Yara’s tight body bent over the nearby chambers’ balcony, conversing quietly with the harbor and her sleeping fleet. She heard Dany’s gasp and grabbed her in the net of her penetrating gaze. A sweet smirk dawned upon Yara’s lips when she nodded in the most respectful, utterly alluring way. Daenerys returned the gesture, it was the proper thing to do. She also wanted to give her guest a proper amount of time to measure the conquest she was just invited to attempt.

Several fragrant moments later Dany strolled back into her chambers, hotter for Yara’s caresses than she thought she could ever be. “Tomorrow will be the day” she smiled as slumber overcame her.

The low morning sun bathed Dany's bed in gold. She awoke slowly, wrapped in luxurious languor. The sheets brushed against her skin, whispering of Yara’s fingers, of Yara’s smile, of Yara’s hushed, leathery voice, of Yara’s body, of Yara’s lips, which probably tasted like saltwater, nipping and delicious, of Yara, Yara, Yara, wrapping Dany in a tight embrace, like the sea monster on her banners. Sliding about her in worship.

With a contended smile Daenerys sat up and stretched out her tingling arms, covered with daydreams. A full day of meetings, audiences, discussions, and in the evening…Something should happen in the evening, but she wasn’t sure what. She was only sure that satisfying her curiosity could not be delayed for one more night. “I am a queen, and I shall take what I desire.” Dany thought as she laid back in her bathtub. 

All day Daenerys stole glances around the throne room, feeling Yara’s presence, and wanting to catch a glimpse of the daring green-gray eyes. But the seafarer never appeared. Tyrion mentioned she went to the harbor in the early hours, and Missandei saw her coming back from the armory, holding a Greyjoy helmet.That was all. As the hours passed, Dany’s fever grew stronger, a burning coal in the middle of her cool determination. By dinner time her lips were dry, her hands were cold, and her plans were set. 

“The Queen invites you to share her evening wine”, the guard bowed to Yara at the door and waited to escort her. “I think I know where I am going. You can leave.” she said, but the man lead her anyway, his heavy armor clattering in the hallway. Her life must be in danger, Yara thought, to be so intently watched... She’d watch Daenerys all day, too, if she could, intrigued as she was with her silver-white hair, her milky skin, her full breasts that Yara feasted her eyes upon last night. She’d watch her sweet lips define rules and demand submission. She’d watch her violet dragon eyes send sparks into hers. Men had come and gone through Yara’s bunk, women as well, but towards none she ever felt such intense interest; a call that muddled her thoughts, followed her through her rounds, while muttering in her steps, smoldering her insides. 

The heavy door creaked open. Dany stood by the table, her full lips contoured by the candlelight. A pitcher glistened in her hands. 

“Would you like some wine? I have come to the habit of drinking a glass before bed. It cools my mind.” Dany began pouring. The silver-white tresses caressed her naked shoulder, and gently nested within the creases of her loose, silk gown. Yara stood at the door frame, mesmerized. “Aye” she swallowed with difficulty. “I thank you for your kindness.” 

Daenerys passed her the chalice and, just as planned, their fingers met on it. Thick tension welled between them, its deafening silence whispering indecencies. “Shall we sit?” Dany suggested a wicker bench, concealed in silk and velvet pillows. A ribbon of sandalwood and jasmine encircled Dany, pulling on Yara's senses, rendering her uncharacteristically unable to move or speak again. Her deafening desire to act nailed her back to the bench, and she couldn’t move a limb, but the hand with the chalice to her parched mouth. She was at the mercy of this dragon queen, and couldn’t fathom how suddenly it happened. Dany’s violet stare stripped her courage off, dispelled her political correctness. 

As lightning their lips melted into a kiss. Daenerys had lunged forward unqueenly and assaulted Yara, who didn’t feel the slightest offense. For she was rather lost in the softness that enveloped her endlessly. Dany drank the salt from Yara's tongue. “Maybe my bed will be more comfortable?” the seafarer suggested and they stumbled onto the mattress laughing with lightness, uncustomary to both. Dany was assailed by the many fasteners, belts, and leather straps surrounding her pray, but Yara had no questions about which strings to pull to expose Dany’s marble breasts to her hungry kisses. Soft moan escaped the queen’s lips, and her head fell back, a fan of white tresses raining on Yara’s arms. 

Their bodies intertwined, searched each other’s pleasures as the candles burned out and the pale morning light painted the walls. Their hands came together and separated, fingers explored, lingered, and drew ecstasy, lips tasted unknown secrets, and tongues brought impetuous rapture. Sweet sweat glittered on shoulders and hips. The wine was soon gone. In the early hours the sun found them fast asleep, and smiled into their eyes.


	2. Out of Dragon's Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yara promises to show Daenerys the stars that burn high above the sea.

The smell of the sea overwhelmed Daenerys just like it did when she was little. Viserys had laughed at her while he pushed her towards the railing just to hear her half-terrified, half-excited shouts. The strong winds had tangled her silver-white hair, the saltwater bit her lips, the calls of strange birds startled her vivid imagination. Yet, young as she was, she already felt the seductive pull of the abyss, luring her soul with a promise of death, wrapped in power. And now, with the stars splurged above her, the hot west winds propelling her forward, she felt conflicted again: she was to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and to marry into a political success. But the feelings growing inside her quartered her between duty and her heart, between reason and the abandon with which…

A loud thud made her turn around, hand on her dagger. “You have already killed me several times, your Grace, there’s no need to pull a weapon at a dead woman.” Yara’s lips stretched into the very smirk that melted Dany’s knees. Her Greyjoy armor was gone, and she stood before her queen bare-chested, a worn-out green shirt covering her voluptuous curves. Daenerys composed herself and glided by Yara. “Life taught me to be always on my guard.” A cool hand grasped her arm. “That is not the way I came to know you. You disarmed me without daggers and dragons.” Her wet fingers caressed Dany’s skin, as their eyes met, sinking into each other’s storm. Suddenly, Yara wrapped Dany’s slender waist and pulled her into an abyss’ kiss. 

“I need you ready and armed, Yara Greyjoy, you are to fight for me soon.” Dany whispered when their breaths untangled. “I will fight for you, and for the Iron Islands, your Grace. But that is yet to come.” Yara bend her brow to the ivory face, and kissed Daenerys's violet eyes. A wave of fire rolled inside Dany. This strange weakness frightened her. “If I lead you to my bed again, it is because I desire so. But make no mistake, I will not allow sentiment to pull me away from reclaiming my home.”  
“Of course, your Grace.” Yara’s voice pulsated with a combination of obedience and defiance, which Daenerys unwisely chose to ignore. “I am sure you have a majestic bed in your quarters, but would you allow me to show you how bright the stars burn from the deck of a ship?” she nodded towards a pile of spare sails.

Yara laid her down gently, peeling her gown off, kissing the porcelain skin with the tenderness of yesternight. “I will not break. Handle me.” Dany whispered, her hot breath burning Yara’s neck. “It will be my pleasure.” 

Underneath the pale casing roared a fire, stronger than any force Yara had stood against. A thirst that was never satisfied, neither with bites or grips, or with devoted service. Daenerys set ablaze all about her, her youthful face sweetly melting into an innocent, contented sigh, and all of a sudden, darkening with the lust of experience. She demanded her pleasure, and pulled at Yara’s hands, drowning in the taste of her own hunger. Yara could not resist this unexpected dichotomy. It rendered her helpless, driving her to please her dragon queen with all the fervor she was capable of. And she was capable of much. The banners flapped sharply in the wind, sentinels of an unspoken feeling pulsating between them. Daenerys’s delirium rose higher, her fingers trailing red furrows across Yara’s back. A white howl, barely covered by her hand, sent her body flying among the stars. 

Yara smiled, her lips fragrant with sandalwood and jasmine, and ashes and sweet, unknown fruits. Velvet silence drew them together, lazily accompanied by the splash of the waves against the ship, masts creaking, gossiping. Dany caught her breath, landing into the deepest kisses she had ever fallen into. Her fingers creeped down Yara’s stomach, eager to unfold the many-petaled enigma of her sex. A soft, cool hand covered hers, and guided it into a wish so light, so delicate, so unexpected, it drew a puzzled look on Dany’s face. “Slowly.. Please. Your grace..”, Yara murmured her secret. The Ironborn had exposed unfathomable softness in her guarded core whose existence even the Sea God himself would have doubted. Compiling with the yearning she was bestowed with, Daenerys planted such frail kisses upon Yara that soon she held her a prisoner. She felt honored by this sudden trust and delighted to reward Yara with watercolored strokes, and slippery kisses, and feathery caresses, listening attentively to the quiet moans slipping through her pray's bitten lips. Moans that grew longer, higher, stronger, pulling Dany down the dark rift, where a burst of light that could shame the noon sun obliterated her pray into a pile of crumbling rocks. 

Now a part of the sails themselves, the two women lied crumpled into each other’s arms. A long, salty kiss, an absentminded caress, their heartbeats calming down, they gazed up at the stars. “You are right. They do burn bright.” Dany traced the outline of Yara's chin with a slender stroke.


	3. Old Ghis

So this is where Old Ghis stood, Yara thought, her gaze gliding beyond the black beach, onto the endless plain of cracked earth. Cracks, long as her ships' masts - veins, full of dust and dry blood from centuries ago. The capital of an ancient empire, now powdered with salt and sulfur, and the dust of countless bones. Gray clouds hung low across the horizon, shredded by incessant hot wind. Only the creaking ships in the moored fleet broke the grainy silence. There were no gravestones in this graveyard port, or marble angels, charred by fires, not even the timbers of funeral pyres. Not a tree to shade the weeping, not a rock to seat the mourning. Just dry wind, weaving death into Yara's hair.

A whole day and a whole night had passed since Daenerys took one hundred Unsullied and Drogon to the ruins of Valyria. Hours Yara filled with dread and fear. She didn't believe for a second that her uncle's fancy-ass armor was made of Valyrian steel, regardless of his boasting about the perilous trip through the Citadel. Even Targaryens hardly returned from the city where Doom slept. Yara realized she was worried, and her brow stiffened even more. A terrifying roar made her turn.

Drogon flew low above her head and landed on the shore, raising a black sandstorm that covered her. He screeched again while shaking off, turning Yara's blood white. She spotted the Targaryen banners flying high again, and jumped into her rowboat.

"You may not enter, your grace, Queen Daenerys has summoned only the members of her council." an Unsullied barred her approach. Yara stared his stony face. It is true, I'm not a part of her most trusted group, she thought. I am.. Just the woman who gave her ships and some nice time. She felt her sides burn, as she paced by the door. An Ironborn, held at the gates! Never! With a single stroke, Yara pushed pass the lowered spear and barged in.

Eyes fixed upon her. Seated around a long table, Missandei and Grayworm, Davos, Tyrion, and Varys sized her up, each with their own thoughts about her agenda. Dany released the scroll she was pressing down and it rolled closed with a slap. More papers surrounded her, some with burnt edges, some still bound with intact seals, and some, eaten by age-old mold - a familiar sour stench that Yara recognized in an instant. "Yes? Is there an urgent matter that demands my attention? Because if there are no ships on fire or an enemy boarding the fleet, you have no reason to interrupt this council meeting." Daenerys's gaze could have frozen the Red Waste. It could have if it wasn't ever so slightly concealing a feeling that Yara felt in her gut, but couldn't describe. "That's what I thought. Leave, and never again presume to disobey my orders, Yara Greyjoy." Her silver-white hair, tangled in dirty clumps, fell upon her face as she turned away and unrolled the scroll. Yara noticed Dany's elbows were scuffed, and a bandage covered her knee. A hand tightened around her heart. "Forgive me, your grace. I only wanted to know when you'd like the fleet to.." Yara began her counteroffensive, when the violet eyes cut her. "Leave. Now."

The scalding wind did little to disperse Yara's apprehension, and the sight of the waves calmy bathing her ships' wide bodies didn't comfort her as it had before. She barely noticed how the hot noon sun gave birth to an even hotter evening. At dinner she didn't speak a word to Theon, and left the table early to lose herself in any work that came her way. A ton of sky pressed down upon her. She felt relief and feverish anticipation, and wished to encounter Dany just to push her away from her thoughts. How she allowed herself to become entangled in this woman was a mystery Yara constantly tried to unravel. Was it in the way their bodies entangled, or the bright laughter Dany hid from everyone but Yara? In their conversations about awful family members and nonexistent childhoods?

"Yara.." A soft voice, maybe just the wind, disrupted her brooding. "Do you understand..." Dany leaned on the rail and stared at the black water, her back hiding her thoughts. Yara finished gathering the rope, feeling the cliffs that separated them expand with every passing minute. "As the only daughter of Balon Greyjoy, I know about difficult choices, your Grace. I know how hard it is to find trustworthy advisors. Forgive my impertinence, it was never my intent to disrespect you. I will await your orders in the morning." As she spoke with great calm, Yara felt a thousand harpoons bursting her insides. She had gone past the point of no return, to her great shame and painful bliss; she was in love like she had always prayed to the Drowned God that she would never be. It cost her all her willpower to keep it hidden. "Don't go..." The crack in Dany's voice bound Yara's feet together. "I didn't answer you properly earlier..." None of them moved, this new formality keeping them at a respectable distance. "I took no offense, your Grace."

The winds had died, leaving the humid air to settle inside every cool crevice imaginable. "Enough of this." Dany embraced Yara so swiftly, so tightly, with such screaming longing that only the kiss she was searching for satisfied her. Yara gave her lips to the bruising thirst of the queen, her previous anxiety chased away by a complete surrender to the woman who had stripped her of all her pride, all her power, all her choices. They exchanged feverish caresses, as if they were standing by the edge of the world at the end of time. "Your grace?" "No, no "your Grace", Daenerys. I'm Daenerys when you hold me..." "Daenerys.." Yara tasted the name and liked how it tickled her tongue. "What happened in Valyria? You are hurt, I can see it. Did someone attack you?" she slid her fingertips over the fresh bandages. "Just a scratch.. Kiss me. Again!" Dany pulled her close, loosening Yara's belt. "No, you must tell me. I was worr.. wondering what was going on."

Dany stood up. It had happened. Just like Tyrion said. 'He wasn't the first to love you and he won't be the last.' She took a deep breath and covered her mouth. A familiar shiver ran down her spine. "What happened? We..I flew to the Citadel with Drogon. It was dark, even during the noon hours. There was mist covering much of the water..the Stone Men hide in it. I think the Unsullied killed several of them while going through the ruins...I heard screams." She walked slowly by the rail, following the wood grain with her fingers, the shiny varnish warm to the touch. "It was easy to find the Citadel..These sharp arches, like shattered bridges..We flew in through a window. From above I saw the three-headed dragon on the floor, three heads like my family's sigil... In mosaic I think... Beautiful. But why would my sigil be..." Dany paused. She had left Yara far behind and suddenly felt utterly alone. "And the scrolls, you brought them from the ruins?" "I don't know why I did it - I told Drogon to burn the mosaic... The flames flew high, as if they were not touching the tiles at all. Then the floor gave in and I lost my footing.." Yara's steps came in closer and Dany found herself surrounded by dried leather and salt specks. She brushed her face against them. "I felt something there, Yara... While I was walking among these ruins, the black roads, the black walls, these giant black legs, left from giant statues...No people, no shadows, not a sign of life. Centuries since the Doom. It was quiet, kind of heavy, dull silence, filling your ears. And I was thinking I should be weary, but instead I felt... Homesick. For this foreign place. Do you understand?" A sad smile pulled the corners of her lips. "I've never lived there, the empire was dead long before I was born. I never knew its people. But I felt homesick for the Valyria I was walking through..The one I had never known." They held each other tightly, in a hopeless search of comfort.

Like a forgotten song, a tiny ribbon of fresh air passed their faces. Gently, Yara pulled away a silver strand of hair and kissed the skin underneath. She tasted the tears that carved dusty paths on the pale, dirty cheeks. She knew she could not soothe Dany's longing, for hers was longing for a past she never had. A lonely bird settled above the furled sail and called into the darkness. Yara pushed Dany's back to the rail, while Dany's fingers fumbled with the shoulder straps of her breastplate. The seafarer gently pushed them away and unfastened the armor herself. Underneath, her round, defiant breasts filled the thinning green fabric. Dany reached to grasp them, and was once again rejected. Instead, Yara dove into her queen's neck with vehemence. She kissed the white skin and licked the ashes of Valyria hiding behind her ear. Dany sighed, and sank deep with eyes closed, her spine curved like a tall wave. Yara caressed the transparent skin underneath the strong arms, while lifting them high above her tangled tresses, stripping Dany from the simple leather shirt. Her lips crawled down the delicate collarbones, tasting the faint jasmine on her chest, encircling the hardened nipples, her palm gracing the firm crescents of her breasts. Yara fed on the tender flesh, then immediately kissed the sore spots, asking for forgiveness. Dany wanted to fight the invasion, to kiss and bite back, but her arousal overtook her, pulling her head back, closing her eyes, painting her cheeks red, draining feathery moans from her parched lips. Her legs hardly held her up, ankles shaking under the pressure of a thousand thrills, nails clawing the soft, wet wood underneath the parapet. Yara kneeled in worship, and slowly slid her shoulder under Dany's knee, reveling in the strong perfume of arousal she had lured out.

Daenerys loosened her grip on the melancholy she had picked up between the ruins of the old capital. In the spotted darkness of her eyelids she saw her world become smaller, move lower, a hungry, pulsating red flower. When Yara's lips brushed her clit, she fell forward, strung with tension. She shuddered and pressed her hips forward, grasping Yara's slippery seaweed tresses in her fist, pulling her towards her wet lips, tightening against the tongue searching for her core. Thoughts of the past blew away in the storm of her drumming heart. Yara searched for the headwaters she had known before, growing confident by the tremors shaking Dany's body. She sank deeper and deeper in the salty-sweet and cloudy waves, drinking them incessantly, fearless of drowning, hungry to ingest as much as she could, feeling the tide coming at her, Dany's breath growing quicker, higher, pleading, writhing, and pressed ever forward.

A crimson flame set Dany on fire and scattered her muffled scream into the cardinal directions. Bursts of color spun like a kaleidoscope behind her unseeing eyes. She broke down piece by violent piece, each spasm pushing her further into a deaf nothingness. A savage wave for a grave. Head first, followed by her shoulders and chest, she released her grip and unfolded on Yara, limp arms swaying by useless body. She struggled through a fog towards the drawstrings on Yara's shirt, and was easily persuaded otherwise. With one last deep exhale, Dany released all her strength, and drifted off in a light slumber, her chin on her lover's shoulder. Yara stood awake long after, her thoughts a full net.


End file.
